


Broken Clocks

by Turquink



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: M/M, No SQUIP, Sloppy Makeouts, Soulmates AU, bmc, boyf riends - Freeform, im so angry I accidentally deleted this, repost, soulmate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-21 20:09:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13748349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turquink/pseuds/Turquink
Summary: Jeremy Heere was not good at math.It’s not that he didn’t try, it’s just that the numbers never clicked. Not the way that fighter game combos and convoluted anime plotlines did. However, even though he was bad at math, that didn’t mean he couldn’t count. Just because he had a low D in his Trigonometry class didn’t mean that he couldn’t see the blue numbers on the small clock on his wall, still slowly ticking down, day after day.[a soulmate au in which a clock ticks down to when you meet your soulmate. Reposted because I accidentally deleted--sorry!]





	Broken Clocks

Jeremy Heere was terrible at math.

It’s not that he didn’t try, it’s just that the numbers never _clicked._ Not the way that fighter game combos and convoluted anime plotlines did. However, even though he was bad at math, that didn’t mean he couldn’t count. Just because he had a low D in his Trigonometry class didn’t mean that he couldn’t see the blue numbers on the small clock on his wall, still slowly ticking down, day after day. Jeremy’s was getting uncomfortably close, only a month left. He still couldn’t believe he was supposed to meet his soulmate this early, when he was just seventeen!

He could remember the day he had received his clock in the mail; each person got their soulmate clock when they turned six years old. Six-year-old Jeremy had been so excited to get his; after all, his parents had theirs hanging in the living room, times showing **00:00:00** in his parents’ favorite colors.

Of course, that didn’t always mean the soulmates would stay together. His father’s clock now sat, still glowing a faint orange, in the attic, the space where it had previously hung in the living room now just a glaring, bare spot.

Jeremy shook the thought out of his head as he pulled his blue backpack with Rich’s “BOYF” still written on the back onto his shoulders. He glanced at his actual clock. “Shit!” he murmured, quickly pulling his converse on and rushing down the stairs. His dad sat on the couch, eyes red and puffy, trying not to stare at the blank spot on the wall.

“Um…Dad, I’m going to Michael’s,” Jeremy said, not sure whether he should be concerned. His father gave a muffled sound in reply, and Jeremy just…sorta slinked out of the room and out the front door. He started off down the street. Michael lived a short fifteen minute walk away. His phone buzzed in his pocket.

**Player 1:**

**dude where tf u at**

Jeremy rolled his eyes and replied.

**Player 2:**

**You make me cringe sometimes. I’m on my way.**

A moment later:

**Player 1:**

**u kno u luv me jere-bear >;3c**

**Player 2:**

**You wish >:P**

Jeremy shut his phone off and grabbed the keychain off of his backpack, using it to unlock Michael’s front door. It had been a gift for his fourteenth birthday, when Jeremy had practically lived at the Mell’s while trying to avoid his parents’ constant fighting.

“Michael! I’m here!” Jeremy shouted into the empty house. He heard a muffled “Down here!” from the basement, and Jeremy raced downstairs.

“Hey dude, what’s up?” Michael said, spinning around in his desk chair. Faint bass beats echoed from his computer speakers.

“Not much. Think we can crack Level 8 today?” Jeremy asked, plopping down in one of Michael’s beanbag chairs and placing his backpack beside him. Michael sat down next to him quickly.

“Those zombies won’t know what hit ‘em!” Michael exclaimed, smiling as he gave Jeremy a high-five.

As they proceeded through Apocalypse of the Damned, Level 8: The Haunted Record Store, Jeremy kept glancing around Michael’s room. The ever-present ticking of Jeremy’s clock on the wall hadn’t gone unnoticed; he was starting to get nervous about it. It kind of disappointing, knowing that his favorite person in the world could never even possibly be his soulmate; after all, his clock was still ticking. But Michael’s? In their twelve years of being best friends, Michael had never once talked about his soulmate clock. Jeremy had never even seen it.

Suddenly, the sound of Jeremy’s character dying broke him out of his thoughts. Michael let out a groan. “Ugh, Jeremy! You’ve gotta quit spacing out on me like that, or we’ll never get through this level,” Michael said, pouting at him. Normally, Jeremy would have laughed, hit him lightly on the shoulder, and gone back to playing his game, but Michael’s face, illuminated in the soft blue glow of the game’s pause menu, was absolutely gorgeous. His dark eyes were gleaming, and he was worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, something he only did when he was nervous.

Jeremy felt his face get hot. Not right now, gay thoughts. “I-I, um, yeah. Yeah, sorry.”

“Jer, are you okay?” Michael asked, a concerned look on his face as he sat down his controller and scooted closer. Jeremy gulped.

“Michael, have you ever thought about your soulmate?”

Jeremy looked into Michael’s eyes, not expecting him to clench his jaw and look at the space beside Jeremy’s head, almost like he was holding himself back.

“No. Never.”

“Not even once?”

“Look, Jer,” Michael said, looking him straight in the eyes again. “I don’t need a soulmate to be happy. I have my music, I have my weed, and, well, I have you.” He said, the corners of his mouth twitching up in a smile. “What else do I need?”

Jeremy felt his face flush, and his chest bubble up with _something,_ he didn’t know what. He just knew that it was a warm, fluttery feeling. And then, he did something incredibly stupid. He leaned across the beanbags and grabbed Michael’s face in his hands.

And then, he kissed him.

It was rushed and sloppy, a spur-of-the-moment move that left Michael stunned. Jeremy pulled away slowly, not realizing his eyes had fluttered shut until he had to open them again. When he did, he saw Michael staring back at him, eyes wide with disbelief. He immediately started reeling.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I-I didn’t—I mean, I did mean to, it’s just—”

Michael cut him off, grabbing Jeremy’s face this time and pressing their lips together. Michael winced as their teeth clacked together (Jeremy was just glad Michael had gotten his braces off before this), but it felt too good to stop, too…right. Jeremy didn’t have the words to describe the feeling; all he knew as he climbed into Michael’s lap was that he wanted more of it.

Michael’s soft hands were on his hips now, holding him steady as Jeremy straddled his thighs, his own hands looped around Michael’s neck. Michael pulled away this time, gasping for air.

“J-Jeremy,” he gasped as Jeremy pressed wet kisses on his cheek, his jaw, the space behind his ear. Jeremy just hummed in response, making a shiver run through the boy.

He wanted to see him, feel him do that again.

~~  
Hours later, hair ruffled and clothes rumpled from making out, the two laid in Michael’s bed. Michael traced patterns on Jeremy’s bare chest--his shirt had come off very quickly as soon as Michael realized how easily Jeremy’s pale skin bruised--as Jeremy hummed contentedly, his arms around Michael and his head on his shoulder.

“Jeremy,” Michael murmured into his ear. The boy in question raised his eyebrows in response, and felt Michael take a large, shaky breath. “You asked about my soulmate, right?”

“Mhm?” Jeremy replied.

“I broke it.”

“You what?” Jeremy said, sitting up slightly. He’d never heard of someone breaking their clock on purpose; it sometimes happened by accident, but never on purpose.

“I did. I broke my clock. Smashed it against the floor until the numbers stopped.” Michael said. Jeremy’s mouth stayed open, a little “o” shape.

“Why the hell would you do that?” Jeremy asked, taking Michael’s hand softly and running his thumb over his knuckles. Michael gently lifted his chin up so they made eye contact.

“Because that was the day that I realized that I wasn’t going to be in love with some manic pixie dream girl that the universe picked out for me,” Michael said. “I was in love with you.”

Jeremy’s breath hitched. He wrapped his arms around Michael’s middle, snuggling into him again, murmuring an “I love you” against his chest and feeling it convulse with gentle laughter as Michael kissed the top of his head.

Unbeknownst to Jeremy, the blue numbers on his wall stopped, frozen at **32:38:10**. They blinked for a moment, then read out **00:00:00.**

 


End file.
